Even Saiyans Can Bake
by futureauthor13
Summary: When Bulma decides she's in the mood to bake something, she gets Vegeta to help her. Who would've thought Saiyans could bake? Just a cute, silly oneshot I thought of, Hope you all enjoy! BulmaxVegeta.


It was no secret to anyone that the blue-haired heiress had a sweet tooth. This meant that the Briefs house was always filled with sweets and desserts. Even when desserts weren't bought that week, Bulma's mother liked baking them from scratch. So, more often than not, there would be something sweet to eat - which was great news for anyone who happened to be visiting.

But, there were rare moments where Bulma didn't want something bought from the store or one of her mother's homemade treats, she wanted to cook a dessert for herself.

As a little girl, while Bulma wanted her future occupation to be as far away from a homemaker as possible, she did have fun cooking with her mother. It wasn't something she did often, even back then, but she enjoyed it nevertheless. The warm, delicious smells and the soft humming from her mother as they worked. The freshly-baked homemade treat at the end was always the best part, and tasted even better than a treat she didn't help make (though not by much, her mom was a pretty darn good cook, with or without her).

So, on that day, while the others were training and the Namekians were either playing golf or hanging out somewhere else, Bulma took it upon her bored self to bake something.

But what? 'Something with chocolate, definitely,' Bulma told herself. She smiled. 'Why not go simple and classic with a chocolate cake? With white icing and maybe some chocolate dipped strawberries!' Her stomach was growling already.

As she walked into the kitchen with a smile on her face, it slightly faltered when she saw that she wasn't alone. The fridge door was wide open, with a certain Saiyan standing in front of it, looking for something to eat. Bulma made a face. She was used to Vegeta raiding through their fridge when he was hungry, but it still annoyed her.

Feeling more annoyed than scared, she tapped him on the shoulder. Vegeta quickly turned his head to look at her, giving her a glare that would send chills up any person's spine. "What do you want, woman?"

"I want to get in my fridge, so move," Bulma replied - no, ordered. The two stared each other down. After about a minute of glaring at each other, Bulma offered a compromise. "I just need to grab a few things, so just step aside so I can get them, and then you can continue looking for a snack."

Vegeta scowled, but he silently weighed his options in his head. If he didn't move, the woman would just keep complaining, and unfortunately he couldn't just blast her off the face of the Earth. So, reluctantly, the prince stepped aside. Bulma smiled in victory. "Thank you, Vegeta," she said politely and grabbed what she needed.

She carried the butter, a gallon of milk and the carton of eggs to the kitchen table. "What do you need that stuff for?" Vegeta asked, although he wasn't looking at her but back at the fridge, which Bulma had noticed was pretty empty. It was Saturday after all, that was when they usually got groceries. All that was left in there were some random fruits and vegetables (not inedible, but still not appetizing to a Saiyan) and some random foods that couldn't make much of a meal. There weren't even any leftovers. Then again, when Saiyans were at her house, there never were.

"I didn't think you cared." "I don't." Bulma smirked. "Well, even if you don't care, I'll tell you. I just felt like baking something, so I'm making a cake."

"I assumed the other woman cooked all your meals," Vegeta commented, closing the fridge and moving to the freezer. He muttered a curse word. Most of the frozen meat had been used throughout the week, and there was nothing left except for ice and some green peas.

"My mom doesn't have to cook, we could easily hire a chef to do it," Bulma replied as she moved to the pantry for more ingredients, "But my mom just enjoys cooking. It can be fun sometimes."

Vegeta let out a small laugh. "Cooking can hardly be considered 'fun'. It's a skill used to survive, a tool."

"Well, here on Earth, it's a different story," Bulma told him. Vegeta just rolled his eyes. Suddenly, Bulma got an idea. "Why don't you help me out with the cake?"

Vegeta looked at her, surprised then amused. "Help you? What, you're not intelligent enough to do it yourself?"

"No, I'd just thought baking a cake would easy enough for a Saiyan Prince to handle," Bulma retorted, "and the cake would be done faster if we're both working on it." Vegeta sneered.

"Any other reason why I should care?"

"If you don't help me with it, I just might not let you have any." The blunette gave a sly smile. "Dinner won't be for another few hours, and it doesn't look like you could find a snack. When was the last time you ate? Oh, that's right, yesterday at breakfast before you started one of your twenty-four hour training sessions.

She shrugged her shoulders. "But if you really can't do something as simple as help make a cake, I guess I could just cut a piece for myself and give the rest to Chi-Chi, I'm sure Goku would love some of it."

Vegeta was furious now, because he knew she was right. Ever since he started living with the Briefs, receiving three full meals a day as apposed to the 'eat whenever you manage to find food' diet he had been on when he was under Frieza's control. This meant his appetite had come back, and at full force. His body was getting used to eating again.

At that moment, he was already starving, and he knew training would be useless. Just a few minutes ago, he was barely keeping up with his training because his hunger was holding him back.

He was in a no-win situation, and he hated it.

"Well?" Bulma asked, getting impatient. Vegeta scowled, and stomped over to the kitchen table. Bulma smiled.

"Baking a cake won't take too long, so you'll be back to training soon if that's what you're all grumpy about. I'll tell you what you need to do." Bulma glanced at the ingredients she laid out. There were three bags - flour, sugar and cocoa powder -, eggs, sticks of butter, vegetable oil and milk. There were also three measuring cups, a big bowl, two circular pans, and a whisk.

Bulma picked up one of the measuring cups. "Do you know how to measure?"

"Measure what?" Vegeta snapped.

"The ingredients, what else!" Bulma yelled, "I don't know how you cook where you're from, but here you have to measure the ingredients. If you have too much or too little of one ingredient, it'll end up tasting terrible."

She pointed to the side of the cup. "You see these red lines?" Vegeta scowled at the obvious stupid question, but held his tongue. The more he argued with that blasted woman, the longer it would take for him to eat, and the longer it would take to get back to some real training. So instead, he simply nodded. "They mark certain measurements. A third, a half, a cup, things like that."

"Alright I get it, I'm not incompetent," Vegeta told her, snatching the cup from her hand. Bulma glared.

"Fine, then measure out half a cup of sugar." She watched as Vegeta grabbed the bag of sugar and held it over the cup. But to her surprise, not only did he not spill anything, but he measured out the perfect amount almost without trying.

"Huh, nice job Vegeta," Bulma told him. Vegeta ignored the complement and simply poured the contents of the measuring cup into the bowl. Remembering the recipe she had heard from her mother many times before, Bulma told Vegeta the measurements for the flour and cocoa powder while she put in the milk, vegetable oil and butter.

"Now we just have the eggs, and we've got all the ingredients," Bulma said.

"Fine, how many?" Vegeta asked (though it sounded more like a demand).

"Three, and you better not get any yolk on the table or you're cleaning it up," Bulma warned him, "I'm going to spray the pans."

Grabbing the non-stick spray, Bulma noticed how Vegeta was cracking the eggs. Instead of being too strong and breaking them in his hands, Vegeta swiftly and cleanly cracked each egg. "Wow."

"What?" Vegeta asked, annoyed by her staring, "Any moron can crack an egg."

Bulma could have shot back an insult, but she just smiled and continued spraying the pans. There was something amusing about the 'Almighty Prince of All Saiyans' cracking eggs and making a cake. She handed him the whisk and continued spraying the pans while Vegeta mixed the batter in record time. When he whisked it, it almost looked like he was making a mini, chocolate whirlpool in the bowl. No cake batter - no matter how thick - could stand up to Saiyan strength.

"I'll pour the batter in," Bulma said, taking the bowl, "I think you've done enough required for some cake. Thanks, by the way."

"Whatever." Bulma rolled her eyes. Same old Vegeta. "So, anyone who can crack an egg that quickly must have some cooking experience." She asked poured the thick, brown batter into the pans.

"I had to make my own meals when I was on scouting missions," Vegeta told her, "It was a simple as finding meat and cooking it, I didn't care about how it tasted. I said before that cooking is simply a skill, and food is simply energy and strength. Sometimes if resources were scarce, I could make a simple stew or find some creatures eggs and cooked them."

Bulma grimaced slightly at that, but she figured it wasn't that different from the chicken eggs they ate on Earth. When all the batter was scraped from the bowl and in one of the two pans, she placed them both into the oven. Turning the dial, she set the oven timer for forty-five minutes.

"Well, you've got about an hour to kill," Bulma told him, "So you can go do whatever you want." Vegeta didn't even reply, he just silently walked out of the kitchen, mostly likely heading back to the Gravity Room for more training. Bulma sighed.

"Oh well," she said to herself as she put the ingredients away. Part of her liked to think that Vegeta had had fun deep down, even though he would never admit it, but she knew that would be a lie. Like staying on Earth and not killing any of them, it was only for his own personal gain so he could get what he wanted later. In this case, what Vegeta wanted was food, and helping Bulma make it was only a price to pay, hardly enjoyable.

Part of Bulma actually enjoyed Vegeta's company, even when he annoyed the crap out of her. Sometimes it was fun to argue with him. She did care about him, even if he didn't. Even if it didn't matter in the long run, Bulma didn't really think about that. She always was more of an 'enjoy the moment' type of person.

About an hour later, Bulma was back in the kitchen, opening up a new can of creamy, vanilla frosting.

"What are you doing now?" Vegeta asked, walking into the kitchen and obviously in a bad mood. Bulma had already pushed him out of the kitchen once when the cakes were pulled out of the oven. They were perfectly baked and smelled delicious, but the annoying blue-haired woman claimed 'they aren't done yet'. Vegeta didn't care whether the cakes were done or not, they looked good enough to him, but Bulma was still in control. So, holding back the urge to argue, Vegeta stomped back out of the kitchen. When he sensed her energy move, he came back.

"I'm putting frosting on them," Bulma told him, "trust me, the cake tastes even better with it than without."

She put a glob of the white frosting on top of the first cake, and started smoothing it out. If Planet Vegeta was more of an artistic planet, it would've reminded the Saiyan of painting, but instead he just saw it as a waste of time.

A bit of frosting got on Bulma's finger, and she quickly licked it off, not thinking anything of it. Vegeta eyed the can of frosting curiously, and when Bulma's back was turned, he stuck his finger in the creamy substance and took some frosting off the side of the can.

"Vegeta!" Vegeta winced a bit at Bulma's very loud voice and scowled at her.

"What!" he yelled back.

"You don't just stick your dirty finger into the frosting!" Bulma told him, "especially since you're all sweaty from training."

Smirking at her, Vegeta licked the frosting off his finger and then gave her a 'Do I look like I give a damn?' look. She growled. "Just get out of here and I'll tell you when I'm done."

"Fine," Vegeta said, still smirking as he walked away. This round was his. 'You may think you have the upper hand, woman,' he thought as he sat down on the couch in the living room, 'but if you think you've got me trained like some dog, you're a bigger idiot than I thought.'

"Ass," Bulma mumbled as she put the can to the side and got out a new one. But just before she started frosting again, she made sure no one was watching and ate a bit of frosting with her finger. 'At least I wash my hands,' she thought.

Once both cakes were frosted, she stacked them on top of each other, added a bit more frosting in the middle, and took a step back to admire her work. "Perfect," Bulma smiled. She decided to not have chocolate covered strawberries, just because she knew Vegeta's patience was nearing it's end. The cake looked delicious enough without them. So, Bulma cut two slices, put them on a couple plates, and walked back into the living room.

'Finally,' Vegeta thought as he watched her sit down. The two pieces of cake definitely differed in size. One was an average piece of cake, the other was huge, at least twice as big, maybe even three times. But surprisingly, when Bulma held out his piece, it was the big slice that he received.

He was sure she was going to give him the smaller slice just to irritate him while she ate the better piece. Vegeta almost thought it was a trick, like she had done something to the other piece. "Are you just going to sit there looking at it or are you going to dig in?" Bulma asked him. He scowled at her and took the plate.

His first bite was slow, but his eating quickly sped up. Bulma would've commented on this, if not for the fact that she knew she ate cake like that sometimes. When he finished eating, Bulma smirked at him. "Looks like someone liked it."

"It was adequate," Vegeta commented, looking away from the blunette.

Bulma chuckled. "Coming from you, I'll take that as a complement."

"Shut up," Vegeta mumbled as he placed the plate on the table and stood up, going back to the gravity room without so much as a thank you. But his complement still rang in Bulma's ears.

'Who knows?' she thought as she helped herself to another piece, 'Maybe he really is slowly becoming less of a jerk.'

That night, after skipping dinner to try to make up for all the training he had missed that day, Vegeta decided to raid the fridge for leftovers. Even if he was used to survive on a little bit of food, he was still hungry.

When he looked in the fridge, Vegeta not only saw some leftover roast and potatoes, but one big piece of chocolate cake left. There was a small index card on the plate, with nothing more than an 'Enjoy!'.

The Saiyan scowled. "Annoying woman," he mumbled as he grabbed the food and shut the fridge door, once more engulfing the kitchen in darkness.

()()()()()()()

Trunks couldn't believe his eyes. His own father was, baking? This had to be some strange dream, right?

He pinched himself. No, not a dream. That really was his father, standing over a bowl and pouring Betty Crocker cake mix into it.

"If you're going to just stand there watching me, then you're going to do something useful while you're doing it," Vegeta said, not even looking up at his son. Still a bit confused, the ten year old walked into the kitchen.

"Here," said his father, handing him a measuring cup, "it says we need 1/4 cup of milk." Trunks was smart enough to know about fractions and measurements, so he poured the milk into the measuring cup without any trouble at all.

"Um, Dad?" Trunks started to ask as he poured the milk into the bowl. His father beat him to it.

"Your mother has been pissed off about this meeting all week," Vegeta told him, "I figured if she has something she likes waiting for her when she gets back, she won't spend the whole night complaining about it."

Trunks smirked, reading between the lines. "Sure Dad, whatever you say."

Vegeta glared at him. "Not a word of this to Kakarot's kid or anyone else, got it?"

"Got it." Trunks picked up one of the three eggs the recipe called for. "So, how do you crack one of these things without getting it all over you?"

**Wow, when was the last time I wrote a Bulma/Vegeta story? I just randomly got this idea yesterday when I was making muffins, and I thought it would be fun to write. Unfortunately, I had over half of it written when something happened and I lost all but the first two hundred words.**

**I almost didn't re-write it, but I still really wanted to write this oneshot, so I sat down and started re-typing. I think this version is just as good, if not better, but I still want to hear what you guys think. Please review, and thanks for reading! Also, quick note, I'm not a baker and I can't make anything from scratch, so if I screwed up the ingredients or whatever for making chocolate cake, sorry. **


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